#210 or, The Process of Natural Selection

  I consider myself a somewhat resourceful fellow.

  Like one time I used the metal clip-it-to-your-shirt-pocket part of a pen to make a tool to remove the metal sticky-out part of a set of headphones that someone had broken off inside the sticky-in part on the armrest of a jet airplane so I could listen to the movie.

 I had to be resourceful because they wouldn't let me take my Swiss Army Knife on the plane. I'm also certain, had I pointed out what I'd accomplished to a flight attendant, I'd have immediately been escorted to the cockpit to ride as technical support should anything untoward happen to the aircraft, mid flight. But I didn't point it out because I don't like drawing attention to myself. Plus, it was a good movie.

 I'm not telling you this because I think that I have a talent that's something better than everyone else has. In fact, as I meet new people in my life, I'm going to assume that any one of you would do exactly the same thing should you be thrown into a similar situation.

  I leave it up to you to prove me wrong.

  Anyway, I strongly believe this same innate resourcefulness would come into play should a global pandemic create such a mass hysteria that people ran out and bought up all the worlds supply of toilet paper, causing a shortage and the possibility that I wouldn't have the luxurious softness, yet double-layered durability of a roll of Costco Kirkland brand toilet paper to softly caress my backside post dump.

 I'd make due.

  Like using a handful of grass or leaves if you happened to get stricken in a tractor, mid day, too far from home and without supplies. You figure it out. Out of necessity.

  Out of necessity.

  That's important. Because, should an event one day require us to all remain at our homes, my first thought would be to provide the necessities of life. To stay alive. To ride this thing out and come out the other side all the better for it. Using toilet paper to wipe my ass is pretty low on the list of things I need to do to remain alive. Food and water, I'm good. Not because I'm a prepper or anything, but I have a freezer full of beef, there's potatoes in the basement, water in the well, and if the shit really hits the fan, I know how to ferment rhubarb into wine. Things I'd need, and a little more.


  So, from time to time, when society is tested in one way or another, it's interesting to try to take a step back and watch. To see how we, as a society, uses our resourcefulness to overcome the trying situation presented to us. Unfortunately, it's looking like more people will be weeded out by some great toilet paper stampede than a random worldwide virus that happens to pop up.

  While that happens, I'll throw a steak and a potato on the BBQ, pour a glass of rhubarb wine and realize that I may have finally found a use for 20 years of single socks from the dryer I have stashed in the basement in garbage bags that I wouldn't let my wife throw out because someday they might come in handy.

  See, resourceful. And probably luxuriously soft and durable.

  Either way, it's just toilet paper. It's not like it's something that's environmental or grows on trees or anything,

  .........oh wait, never mind. 



 

#209. or, Hang Loose and Pass the Pineapple (yet another poem)

I have returned from my tropical winter vacation!

What's that?  You did't even know I was gone? That was my fault. I'm sorta trying to be on the down-low, social media wise these days. And, while I did take a lot of photos, they're still all on my phone instead of on Facebook and Instagram.  Because truthfully, I didn't want to miss my holiday as I was scrolling. Also, I was kinda hoping to be home before anyone really noticed I was gone.

Which I believe is totally doable cause I don't cast a very broad shadow. Except the middle of me. There's way more shadow there than I'm happy with. 

But. That's a different story and not pertinent to this tale.  

Anyways. I'm back and because I'm always trying to better myself, and am currently endeavoring to master lame poetry, here is one about my vacation. 

Take it as you will:

I needed a vacation, someplace warm and tropical.

With oceans and beaches and landscapes botanical.

Visit Hawaii, I'd often been told.

The perfect escape from the Canadian cold.

So I ditched my wool socks, my boots and my parka.

Embraced the land of pineapple, hang loose and the shaka.

I packed my suitcase and some lotion to tan,

off to flex my pale toes in the warm island sand.

I saw beaches and volcanoes, spent a week on a ship.

Saw four different islands on this epic trip.

Waterfalls and whales, there was so much to see,

but in the rough water, my stomach betrayed me. 

Still, a perfect vacation in almost every way.

Aside from the fact that I just couldn't stay. 

But there was one issue and it drove me insane.

It's that the American money all looked the same.

PS. I believe I may have corrected the issue that I had with not being able to comment or reply on my own blog. So if you leave a comment, there's a good chance I'll talk back to you. 

Unless I didn't fix it. Then I won't. 

Until i fix it again. 

Cause blogging is hard.

Mostly.

#208. or, Forty Below (a poem)

So,
occasionally, and unfortunately the place that I call home also happens to be the coldest place in the world. The whole damn world! When that happens, even though I'd rather not go outdoors, those are often the days I have to be outside most of all.

In an effort to delay that happening for as long as possible, sometimes I'll pour an extra cup of coffee and do something to avoid the inevitable.

Something like writing a poem.

About going outside.

This is one of those efforts:


My toes are cold, my fingers numb, my nose is red and rosy.
The temperature is in a plunge and it's less than minus Forty.

It's a lovely day to stay inside, but with that being said,
there's cows out there, and they're cold too, and waiting to be fed.

So outside we go, to feed those cows, to deliver bales round.
I can see my breath, I'm layered up, on my face there is a frown.

My tractor's stiff, my seat is cold, my loader won't do the up and down.
I'm certain if I stop too long, I'd be frozen to the ground.

But I can't say much, I can't complain, I really shouldn't whine.
Cause my wife's with me, and she's outside,

.......cutting off the twine!